


Coming Home

by crescentstrife



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cloud is there to give him hugs, F/M, Family Fluff, Found Family, Friendship/Love, Homecoming, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Sephiroth Needs a Hug, Social Anxiety, among other things wink wink, because sefikura needs more fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentstrife/pseuds/crescentstrife
Summary: Once again, Sephiroth finds himself overthinking his relationship with Cloud and the found family he is marrying into. Luckily, Cloud is there to bring him home again.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 16
Kudos: 143





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in some alternate universe where everyone is alive and Sephiroth didn't go crazy (unless you count crazy in love). 
> 
> Just felt like putting together some fluff, because the Sefikura ship could always use more fluff. 
> 
> And also because I'm a sucker for a socially awkward and dorky Seph.

As soon as he turned off the engine, Sephiroth had heard their voices. Well, more specifically, he heard Zack, yelping out in protest and Cloud and Tifa simultaneously scolding him for making (another) mess. He surmised that they were in kitchen, probably huddled around the island and sharing Wutaian takeout and beer from Tifa’s bar, in what was starting to be a common weeknight ritual. The record player Cloud had fished out of the junkyard and fixed up two weeks ago was playing some jazz song, soft enough to fade into the background of the conversation, but loud enough that Sephiroth’s enhanced hearing could pick it up out in their driveway. He supposed it was Cloud’s version of a warning that company was over – though, if he were being honest, he was not sure whether to be appreciative or worried over that fact.

In a past life, he would have sat in the driveway and agonized over the detail, but instead, Sephiroth stepped out of the car and collected his laptop bag and his dry cleaning, which was hanging neatly in the back seat. He draped the garment bag over his right arm and walked towards the house. The door was already unlocked and slightly ajar, as if in welcome, as if Cloud had been expecting him to be home soon. Yet another detail that curled in his chest (that Sephiroth quickly forced into the back of his mind). He stepped into the foyer, toed-off his shoes, walked down the short hallway into the kitchen and turned to face the four adults standing around the dark granite island.

“I’m home,” he said, hoping the word did not come out as strangely as it felt.

“Sephiroth!” Aerith sang, swinging around in the island stool. Her green eyes were shining, a bright contrast to the dimming twilight outside, and her arms were wide open in greeting.

Tifa was beside her, and she offered a small wave. “We were worried that we were going to have to send a rescue to the WRO office if you stayed there any longer.”

Behind her, Zack laughed and cracked open another beer. “Well, it’s only seven thirty. That’s early by Sephiroth standards.”

“Probably because he had to constantly re-file your paperwork,” Cloud stated, with his characteristic smirk. While Zack yelped again in protest (something about the stick figures being a joke and an honestly perfectly acceptable way to communicate what happened in a mission report), the blond stood up from his seat and walked over to Sephiroth. For a moment, he thought that Cloud intended to kiss him, which would be an unusual occurrence in front of company and the thought briefly made panic grow in Sephiroth’s throat. But instead, Cloud reached over to gently take the garment bag from his arm.

“I’ll go hang this up,” the blond said. “I set aside a plate for you already, if you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, we made sure Zack didn’t steal all the dumplings,” Aerith added.

The black-haired man in question grinned cheekily. “Hey. They were damn good dumplings.”

Cloud shook his head in quiet laughter. He glanced up at Sephiroth and brushed his arm lightly before making his way down the hall. Sephiroth watched the blond disappear into their bedroom, then turned his gaze toward the three people in his kitchen, all looking at him with various levels of expectation. A tightness was again rising up in his chest, but he steeled himself readily. This wasn’t a battlefield, a simulation of monsters, a mission in the desert, the jungles of Wutai. This was three of his fiancé’s friends, having dinner in his kitchen. 

“So,” Aerith started, keeping her warm smile steady as Sephiroth stepped toward the island. Propped on her wrists, she stretched over the counter to grab some chopsticks for him. “How’s work?”

“Don’t talk about work, ugh,” Zack said, scrunching up his face in mock disgust. “Hey, want a beer or something?”

“Water will be fine,” Sephiroth replied. He took the chopsticks from Aerith’s hands, too gingerly that he almost dropped them, and he was sure they noticed, even though they said nothing.

Zack rolled his eyes but went to the sink to fill up an empty glass for him anyway. “I know it’s a weekday, but not like you could even feel it tomorrow, y’know.”

Unsure how to reply, Sephiroth merely nodded. He could never understand Zack’s determination to get him drunk, in spite of the strong anecdotal evidence indicating his particular enhancements made it impossible. The last time his former lieutenant had made the attempt, it ended with Zack and Barret passed out on the hardwood floor of Seventh Heaven, Tifa and Aerith trying to coax Yuffie off the toilet and Cloud unable to walk the few blocks to their home without clutching insistently on Sephiroth’s arm. The next morning, Tifa called him early (she knew he would be up, military habits and all that) and the two of them drove to pick up bagels, donuts and aspirin. That was only the second time he had been alone with Tifa, without Cloud acting as a common thread between then, and he remembered it distinctly because of the way that his hands felt during the drive, awkward and strangely sweaty against the leathered steering wheel. He never usually drove with the radio on, but that day he did, just so that his inevitable silence around this woman would not be so deafening ( _embarrassing)._

(Later, when Cloud was finally roused from bed and not suffering from a hangover, he had stopped Sephiroth from washing the dishes in the kitchen by wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling his face against his back.

“What’s this?” Sephiroth had asked.

Cloud briefly squeezed and then let go. “Nothing. Tifa called me earlier and said you were adorable. I agree with her, that’s all.”)

“Here, your water.”

It took Sephiroth a moment to realize he had let himself get lost in thought again, and as he took the glass Zack offered him, he ducked his head briefly in hopes of hiding his embarrassment. Once again, however, none of the other three spared the moment any additional thought. Instead, Aerith grabbed more spareribs and was merely amusing herself watching Tifa and Zack enter a debate about whether drinking on a worknight could be characterized as irresponsible. (“You own a bar, Tifa.”). Meanwhile, behind him, Sephiroth could hear Cloud returning to the kitchen, socks shuffling against the hardwood floor.

“I didn’t realize you got my suit cleaned too,” Cloud said, walking up to sit next to Sephiroth. The blond let himself lean against his side, a small indulgence of affection. “Thank you.”

Another feeling, blossoming in his chest. It wasn’t that tightness that always came whenever he was around anyone but Cloud, but warmth, like a cup of tea on rainy day, like Cloud tending to their fireplace and then insisting Sephiroth make room on the couch so he could lie against him while he read.

“You are welcome,” Sephiroth replied, feeling his lips tug into a small smile.

“One of these days, I’m going to get cavities from watching you two,” Zack complained.

Cloud fixed Zack with his best attempt at a stern glare. Tifa rolled her eyes, adding, “Like you and Aerith are any better. I swear, I feel so single right now standing next to all of you.”

“Wait, single?” Aerith sat up in her stool. “What happened to that guy. Uh, Jamie something?”

“Johnny,” Cloud corrected. “And he’s an idiot, I can’t believe you went on a date with him.”

Before Tifa could reply, Zack interjected. “Hey, Johnny’s not that bad. He’s a fun dude, and he was a pretty big help on that monster clearing excursion we did a while back.”

“All I remember about that excursion was that you had to call me for help because you two accidently awakened a horde of Grand Horns that were sleeping in the ruins,” Cloud retorted.

“Okay, yeah, well, that was definitely Johnny’s fault. You’re right, he’s an idiot. Sorry, Tifa.”

Tifa responded by covering her face with her hands.

They continued for some time, running through the list of Tifa’s recent dates, teasing Zack about his bad luck with Midgar monsters, regaling Aerith’s triumphant wins in the prank war against Reno and Rude. Sephiroth listened as he ate. His eyes were mostly fixed on his food, but every so often, he found himself turning to look at Cloud, watched as his fiancé rolled his eyes or laughed. Cloud was happy. Relaxed. Content. Sephiroth could see that in the way the blond carried himself, shoulders and arms open and without the usual self-consciousness or schooled aloofness that he presented to strangers. It was why, whenever he was not with Sephiroth or out on deliveries, he would be hunting monsters with Zack, or bartending with Tifa, or running errands with Aerith. They were Cloud’s family.

It was something that Sephiroth had thought he understood, at least conceptually, but was becoming more and more – dauting, frightening, real? The precise word continued to escape him.

At first, Sephiroth had wondered if it was jealousy. He remembered feeling envious of the easy way Genesis and Angeal were with each other (the two did their best, always trying to include him as much as they could, but no matter what, Sephiroth would always be the perennial third wheel). He even remembered the flare of possessiveness that rose in him that one night at Seventh Heaven when Reno had moved in too close to Cloud for his liking. But the feeling he had around Tifa, Zack, or Aerith, watching them arrest Cloud’s attention and affection, was not fiery. No, it was more piercing, vice-like around his chest, something he had not felt so keenly since he was a barely a teenager and made his first tour in Wutai. It felt like ice, like a cold burst of wind that made the hair on his skin stand up, like his bones and muscles were frozen sold, like his brain was trapped inside a body that could not move and was forced to watch a world that continued to zoom past him too quickly for him to comprehend.

When he recognized that, it became evident. Fear. Sephiroth was afraid. He was afraid of Tifa’s observant eyes (she reminded him so much of Angeal, with the way she never failed to hear through the words you said to what you truly meant), afraid of Aerith’s (surprisingly) irreverent jokes. Even Zack, a man he knew for years before meeting Cloud, a man he worked well with, even provided what was likely unhelpful advice after Angeal’s passing, became something close to intimidating.

Sephiroth found that he did not want to disappoint them. He did not want to disappoint Cloud. But he did not know what it was like to be in a family, never learned the right things to say or do, what was supposed to be funny or serious. He did not know how to properly react when Aerith made her colorful comments, or when Tifa dropped off leftover brownies from the kids’ school bake sales. So as his relationship with Cloud progressed and he found himself increasingly in situations like this, where Cloud tried to share this part of his life with him, he found himself lost and silent. Afterwards, Sephiroth would analyze the interactions, consider whether he should have said something here, done something else there, and would then store away information for a later date. It was an utterly robotic process, one that made him recall a long-ago conversation with Genesis, in which the redhead accused him of playacting being human. He fully acknowledged now what he knew then but had stubbornly kept trying to deny (right up until that night in the Nibelheim library, when he couldn’t any longer) – that Genesis was right.

But then, he would think about Cloud. How everything was always different with him. There was no one he seemed to feel more attuned to: each night, when he came home, he could tell if Cloud had a good or bad day by the way the blond left his boots out in their foyer (tossed about meant frustrated, gently strewn meant normal, neatly tucked away meant he was nervous and it was usually about something he wanted to talk to Sephiroth about, which always made him more nervous in turn whenever he found Cloud’s boots in the closet and not by the door). To almost everyone else, Cloud was an enigma, but to Sephiroth, he was clarity itself. And it was clear that it went both ways. Cloud made him feel vulnerable and bare, made him feel special and normal all at once.

Of course…then Sephiroth would wonder if those feelings were just manifestations of the cells they shared, the experiments they had underwent. And then, if that was the case, one could conclude that what he felt for Cloud was programmed into him, engineered – and if that was the case then maybe Cloud wasn’t –

“Sephiroth?” Cloud said, pressing lightly against his arm. He leaned closer, trying to keep his voice down, as he whispered in his ear, “You okay?”

Sephiroth blinked, took a breath to center himself again, focused on the wooden feel of the chopsticks in his hand and Cloud’s warmth on his side. He did not turn to look at his fiancé, but quietly nodded in reply.

Cloud watched him. “Did you get lost in your head again?”

“Perhaps.”

The blond smiled, brushed a strand of hair away from Sephiroth’s face and tucked it behind the man’s ear. “Well, be sure to come back.”

“Ugh,” Zack groaned. “Forget the cavities. I’m talking full root canal.”

“Honestly, considering how long its been since you’ve gone to the dentist, that wouldn’t be unlikely,” Aerith teased.

“Babe, that hurts. You know I’m crazy about dental hygiene.”

“You could have just stopped at crazy,” Tifa said.

Zack, succumbing to his child-like tendencies, stuck out his tongue as a reply. He then reached into the fridge and pulled out another beer. “Here, Seph,” he said, sliding the bottle to the silver-haired man. “The perfect cure for overthinking.”

Sephiroth stared, watched the condensation bead on the outside of the beer bottle. He hated beer, even the craft ones that Angeal loved to explore. So, he said, by way of refusal, “Unfortunately, I fear I will need significantly more than this.”

There was a moment of silence. Sephiroth felt the tightness return, gripping in his chest, and he wondered once again if he should have just stayed quiet, again. Then, Zack grinned. “Well, then we’ll be sure to bring something stronger, for next time. Right guys?”

Cloud punched Zack lightly on the arm, “Can you stop trying to get my fiancé drunk, please?”

“C’mon, Cloud, just trying to help you get into his pants, that’s all,” Zack said, eyebrows wiggling. “Then again, considering how many times I’ve walked in on you two sucking face, it doesn’t seem like you need that much help in that department.”

The blond aimed another punch, this one considerably less gentle than the last, while Aerith and Tifa broke into laughter. Sephiroth could feel heat rising from his neck and into his face, but tried his best to school his face into a perfectly neutral expression. After a minute of failing to land a hit, Cloud surrendered, scowling and returning to his seat, most definitely trying his best to not pout.

Tifa’s smile turned into a wide grin. “On that note, we should probably leave you two alone. I have to open the bar for the night shift anyway.” She opened the large, brown paper takeout bag and began scooping the empty food containers into it.

Sephiroth stood up. “There’s no need, I can—”

“Sit down,” Aerith said. “We got it. Consider it a thank you for letting us use your space.”

He was about to protest again, but stopped once Cloud squeezed his arm and smiled up at him. “It’s okay. Let them.”

Sephiroth paused. Cloud’s eyes seemed to indicate that letting their guests clean was an appropriate reaction in this instance, which ran contrary to the proper etiquette he was taught since youth. Yet another thing lost in translation. He stored the information away for later research, and watched as the three guests quickly tided up the kitchen and gathered the trash. Aerith even separated out the recyclables (“Cloud says you’re pretty anal about recyclables,” she said, eyes laughing in delight, to which the blond replied by sighing in exasperation). It only took a few minutes for them to finish up, and when they did, the five of them moved toward the foyer to say their good-byes.

“See you tomorrow,” Zack said, clapping Cloud on the shoulder. He winked. “Good luck with those pants.”

Cloud was about to protest again but was interrupted by Aerith. She wrapped her arms around the blond and squeezed tight. “Have a good night! And you," she said, throwing Sephiroth a smile, "Don't work too hard!"

“Take care,” Tifa added, waving. She picked up one of the garbage bags and was about to exit, when she turned at the door to smile at Cloud. “Honestly.”

Cloud huffed. “Leave, now.” She laughed and he shut the door behind her. He waited until he heard their footsteps walk the distance down the block before turning around to face Sephiroth, a shy smile on his lips. “Sorry about that.”

Sephiroth's brow crinkled in confusion. “I am not sure why you are apologizing. This is your house. Your friends are welcome here any time."

Cloud’s smile turned into a sigh. The blond stepped closer to him, fingers playing with the lapel of Sephiroth’s blazer. “You always say that,” he said. Then, he turned his eyes upward, stood up on his toes and kissed him, lightly. “It’s your home, too.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“And,” Cloud added, wrapping his arms around Sephiroth’s neck. With their height difference, Sephiroth had to put his hands around Cloud’s waist to keep the blond from tipping over. “By the way, they are your friends too.”

Sephiroth paused, contemplated that. “Oh.”

Cloud looked at him. He added gently, knowing that Sephiroth needed further clarification, “They cleaned up because they knew you were tired from work.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth repeated. He supposed Cloud’s explanation made some sense. Sephiroth himself never minded doing the laundry or cooking dinner on nights that Cloud returned home from a delivery, exhausted from that day’s travel. But to have that reciprocated…it felt unexpected, maybe even undeserved, and he wasn’t sure why.

Cloud waited, as if watching the gears turn in Sephiroth’s head through his eyes. He then pressed his forehead against his fiancé’s, so close that Sephiroth could feel his eyelashes ghosting against his cheeks. “They also never shut up about you. Sometimes I think they like you more than me.”

That tightness was returning again, threatening to cut off the words in his throat, but Sephiroth fought back. “I…am not sure about that.”

“I know.” Cloud said. “It’s okay. Thank you for trying for me.” He gazed up at him, sky blue into jade green, then leaned in closer, lips brushing just so. “You can tell me if it gets too much. Just say the word.”

“But that would be unfair to—”

“I’m serious. Please, if it gets too much, just tell me.”

“I just…do not want to disappoint you.” Sephiroth turned his eyes away, stared pointedly at the hardwood floor and hoped that his shame and embarrassment was not too evident on his face.

Quietly, Cloud pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck. He moved closer, until his face was against Sephiroth’s chest, his arms tight around the man’s shoulders. “You could never disappoint me by being who you are.” He pulled back a little, to look at Sephiroth squarely. “Tifa, Aerith, Zack – they love me, they would do anything for me. But they know – and I know – that you love me so much more than anyone thought possible. It’s what makes them love you, too.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes, let Cloud’s words seep in, unfurl the tightness in his chest and replace it with that warmth he had come to enjoy so frequently since this relationship began. Uncertainty still gnawed at him, and probably always would, just as it did with almost every meaningful relationship he had ever had. But there was a part of him that was growing more and more convinced that maybe, just maybe, this would be different.

And the promise of that was sweet. Each day with Cloud, each kiss was a promise for something better. And when he woke up to a tuft of blond hair burrowed against his chest, to blue eyes bright like the free mountain sky, when he could feel himself falling harder, that promise always seemed to deliver. It was more than Sephiroth ever dreamed he could have, even deserved. And he knew, there was very little he would not do for a chance at that promise.

His fingers curled and wrinkled into the waist of Cloud’s sweater. He pulled the blond even closer, until their bodies were pressed tight together. “Okay,” he said. “I will…try better next time.”

“You were wonderful tonight. You don’t have to try harder.”

“I would like to anyway, for you.”

Cloud sighed, this time a happy sigh, put one hand on the back of Sephiroth’s head, fingers stroking through the silver hair lightly. “Gaia, you really are a dork. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Cloud kissed him, deeply, then grinned in a way few people ever saw him do. “Good, well, then let’s to go to bed. Don’t tell Zack, but I really _was_ itching to get into your pants tonight.”

Despite himself, Sephiroth felt a smile spread over his lips. He stooped over to lift the blond up into his arms. “Well,” he said, as he began making their way towards their bedroom, “You can at least tell him that you required no alcohol to do so.”

Cloud laughed, bell-like and full, like the warm wind breezing through the door chimes, and to Sephiroth, it sounded a lot like _welcome home._

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing fan fiction for this fandom, so comments are really welcome!


End file.
